


All I Can Do

by aanau (orphan_account)



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: 5 times pink steven is strong for his family and one time he isnt, Gen, i have theories on pink boy ive been dying to share, imagine pink steven singing the next right thing from frozen 2 and you get it, steven fucking dies au, this is unintenionally a 5+1, you did it you broke down pink steven to his bare essentials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aanau
Summary: Steven dies but his gem half is still around. This complicates his family’s grieving process, but even just one broken half of Steven is determined to keep his loved ones happy. He just...doesn’t exactly know how? When he’s LITERALLY a part of the problem???inspired by @spudinacup's au comic on tumblr, as well as the fics 'Divided' by Quixotic and 'The Glass Gemstone' by HJ_Fotemr. Highly recommend them!
Relationships: Pink Steven & Everyone
Comments: 34
Kudos: 147





	1. Connie

**Author's Note:**

> check out spudinacup's awesome (but warning! graphic!) au comic on tumblr which includes the inciting incident that inspired this fic! there are few references to it (since I base how Steven died around it), but otherwise this is a standalone character study piece. i wrote this solely on my phone while in bed so it's pretty raw and unrefined. just pure thoughts spilled out, so i apologize if it's messy!
> 
> also i know i made the tag as a joke but because the song really did sum up how i see pink steven's grief and his motivation in this fic, listen to the song 'the next right thing' from frozen 2, assuming you've seen it or don't care about spoilers

As the coffin was lowered into the ground, he had to fight back the instinct to stop them, to try fusing back one more time. 

But it was over. This was his new reality. He felt his own grief and despair rising up to the surface again and he promptly shoved it back down. 

He already felt everyone else’s grief. Any of his own would surely break him. His feelings weren’t important, anyway. They weren’t productive. 

Neither was sitting here doing nothing of use, of course, but at least he was watching over everyone. That had purpose.

Everything hurt so much. The feelings were coming back up every few minutes. He just wanted to be himself again. He just wanted his family to be happy and safe. He wanted to feel love. He wanted to feel whole. 

_ It doesn’t matter what I want _ , he scolded himself.  _ All that matters is I fulfill my purpose _ . 

But his purpose was to be Steven, which was now impossible, so this was the closest thing: preserve what was important to Steven. 

That meant to protect his family and keep them happy, to keep anyone from getting hurt, and to continue to keep peace among and between gems and humans.

There was a lot to be done with the gem empire, but his family and Earth came first. They were most important to Steven. 

His eyes settled on Connie. She had been practically the last to find out. Even the Diamonds found out about Steven before her. And no one actually told her, rather, Lion went to her for comfort days later and she realized no one was answering her calls or texts. 

She had hopped on Lion, teleported to the house, and found his family: Greg, Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst, Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot, all scattered and beat down. And they realized no one had called her. 

Steven knew exactly what Connie’s thought process must’ve been. She would have been angry. So, so angry. At the gems for not telling her, at whoever did this, and at herself for not being there.

And she was still carrying that anger, but for now it was muddled by the sadness. 

It had been a week since anyone last saw him, and Connie hadn't seen him at all.

He wasn’t even sure if she knew  _ he _ existed. Did anyone tell her? Did anyone acknowledge it? He could see the possibility of everyone being so wrapped up in the trauma that they forgot that he was still here in...His absence. 

Or maybe he was just a taboo subject. That he could see, too. He was currently avoiding direct contact with his family, so he didn’t exactly know their feelings on him.

Problem was, at the top of the hill, Connie caught sight of him behind the tree he had chosen for a lookout point. 

He was too far to see the details of her face, but he felt her heartbreak. 

Steven would never in a million years want to break her heart. But He did by dying, and the half of Steven left did so by existing and being here. 

After the service, Connie said something to her parents and Greg and then made her way up the hill towards him. 

She kept her face and body neutral as she approached, stopped in front of him, and said,

“Hey.” 

Steven did nothing. What would Steven—the whole Steven—do?

Steven looked her up and down, remembering how she was probably the safest person for him. She never thought he was Rose Quartz or Pink Diamond. Never any expectations for him to be anyone but himself. 

He was at a loss of who  _ himself _ was now, with the half giving him that identity and purpose gone, but he still remembered. 

He also remembered how he would’ve liked to have a whole life with her. To grow up together and get married and support each other in their dreams.

But that was impossible now. Another thing he lost. 

Steven lifted a hand and gave an awkward wave. 

“Hi,” he stated.

Connie’s mouth twitched. She inhaled sharply. 

“They told me about you. I’ve been wondering where you were. They don’t know that…we’ve met before. They don’t understand why I’m so worried. I don’t think they quite  _ get _ the whole thing.”

She looked for some kind of reaction from him, but knowing she shouldn’t expect much, continued.

“They’re just confused. I am too, of course. But they don’t realize that you’re just as much of Steven as the one we just buried. We lost Steven, yeah, but they don’t realize you’re half of him and we still have you.”

Connie stepped forward.

“Can I hug you?”

Steven held out his arms. Of course she can. If he could provide any comfort at all he would do it. Problem is he absolutely sucked at being comforting. He had no idea how to be sympathetic. 

She squeezed him tight, and he mindfully squeezed her back not too hard. She cried into his shoulder a bit before breaking away.

“I...I know you’re hurting, too. If there’s something I could do, tell me. I know I can’t fix it, but…”

“Stop,” Steven said.

Connie froze.

He said it without thinking. He didn’t want to burden anyone, especially people who were already burdened by his death. 

He paused and assessed. Connie was always so loyal and kind. She was dedicated, selfless, brave. He was so lucky to have her, and he felt undeserving of it now. 

“You’ve always been a good friend, Connie,” Steven stated, “You don’t have to be a good friend right now. Go home and take care of yourself.”

Connie’s mouth dropped. It sounded like she was being let go from a job, and Steven was aware of how tactless he was. But he knew Connie understood his efforts. He knew of everyone in his family, she's the one he didn't have to hide things from. 

She knew he was still Steven, and she knew he wasn’t. She wouldn’t be hurt or disappointed by him when he acted different from who he once was.

“Okay...I get it. I...I do need some time. Please don’t shut me out, though. I love you and...I don’t want to lose you.”

Tears welled up again. She sobbed into her hands.

“Well I mean...I’ve already lost you. I’m so sorry I lost you and I shoulda been there. But I don’t want to lose... _ more of you _ . I…”

She continued to cry, hugging herself and kneeling in the grass.

“What is it like?” She finally asked. She sniffled and wiped her nose.

“What’s it like for you? To be...like this?”

Steven blinked, unnecessarily. 

It was impossible to describe such an abstract feeling. What did it feel like to be half a person, with half of your soul ripped from you with no hope of ever getting it back? 

He felt the existential empty cold vacuum in the core of his being, and he felt the relentless heat of all this energy and drive that was meant to power his human half. 

There was no physical pain to describe, but whatever feeling this was was infinitely worse than the most painful death.

“It’s…”

Connie perked up. He didn’t want to burden her. But it would yield a better outcome for her emotional health if he gave her a little closure, no matter how upsetting. He figured that would be the pattern over the next stretch of time with his family, once he decided to approach them. A little heartbreak for the greater good.

“...empty. I can’t fulfill my purpose. I try to be me but I can’t with half of me missing. But all I can do is try. That’s the closest I’ll ever get.”

Connie made a pained noise. Then she looked up again, “Then why are you hiding from everyone? Don’t you wanna be with your family?”

Steven looked away. He took a moment to formulate an answer, but Connie waited patiently. He could be the most honest with her out of anyone, he kept reminding himself.

“I do, but…”  _ but he can’t love, he can’t get the same comfort and fulfillment he craves from being loved by his family, being around them is a reminder of what's missing.  _

He paused. That was the selfish reason. The reason he shoved aside, since he would do anything at his own expense if it meant them being happy.

“But right now they don’t need me around. I don’t want to cause any more damage. I can’t fix things. I can't undo it. All I can do is avoid making anything worse. I'm waiting for when there's something I can do to make things better.”

Connie processed that. 

“Well you definitely are Steven. Somehow you’re the part that infuriates me,” she laughed sardonically.

Steven couldn’t help but question that.

“What do you mean?”

Connie blushed, “Oh s-sorry. I mean you’re the part that keeps everything bottled up. You just want to fulfill this role you created in your head and think you’re only as good as how well you do that. You have no value for yourself or your feelings and it's infuriating!”

Her eyes widened. Something clicked. She stood up and pointed at him with an air of triumph.

“And that’s why you’re the gem half! That’s classic gem mentality! You just want to fill your role, and any individuality or emotions get in the way of that so you bottle it up for the greater good. And that role, the role you inflicted on yourself, by the way, is keeping everyone happy and solving everyone’s problems. And—and protecting everyone and everything you’ve worked for.”

Connie was grinning, before the triumph faded and she realized the knowledge did nothing to make the situation better.

But in a way, it did. Because this part of Steven lacked identity as a rule, but having himself explained at least furthered his understanding of himself. 

So, he grinned. Probably the first outward expression of emotion besides the few early spurts of anger or frustration. 

Connie faltered. “Did I...did I just figure something out?"

Steven nodded, “Thank you!” 

He was joyful. It was so nice to feel an emotion that was his own and that wasn’t about his incompleteness. What did Steven do when he was joyful? He danced and sang.

Well this Steven wasn’t much for singing or dancing, which required the identity and self expression of his other half, but he felt like he needed to let this joy out somehow. It felt unnatural to him, to feel the need to express an emotion. 

He hugged Connie and spun her around.

“Thank you, Connie! I knew you’d understand me. I don’t even understand me. I didn’t even know if there was anything  _ to _ understand.”

Connie laughed. Oh thank goodness she was able to help him. And his monotone had broken along with his blank expression and for a minute it felt like she was talking to the Steven she knew. 

“Maybe knowing all that will help me be a better help to everyone."

Connie stopped laughing. Looks like he missed the point? But she couldn’t blame him for lacking self awareness or clarity. Maybe she gave him just the first step to achieving that? 

She hoped he’d be able to move past his toxic selflessness, but she supposed that maybe he would just be unable to. That was a consequence of being an unbalanced person, a  _ half _ a person. 

The best  _ she _ could do is accept him how he is, and that’s what Steven always appreciated her for. This part of Steven, she correctly assumed, was no different. 


	2. Greg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: i am not a songwriter.
> 
> edit: turns out my depiction of pink steven's issues isn't too far off from SUF steven's issues look at that! next few chapters may take longer because of future (it's hard for me to create content when canon content is being released). who else is screaming from that premiere???

It had been two days after the service and Greg had slept (not very peacefully) through most of them. Barb and Vidalia had taken turns stopping by to force him to eat and drink, because otherwise he honestly couldn’t be bothered.

They tried to engage him, too. Play a card game, put a guitar in his hands, take him for a walk. None of it worked since the man was, as Amethyst would put it, a sad sack. 

He just sat and stared at nothing, until the next wave of grief would wash over him and he’d cry himself into another depression nap. 

Uncle Andy came to the funeral and offered his company, but in his heart Greg had already accepted that he had lost his only family. And it was his  _ son. _

He was staring at his electric guitar, the one Steven often used, when he decided to pay a visit to his grave. Lay down some flowers, get some words off his chest, the basic. Nothing more complicated than that.

He forgot the possibility of the pink copy of his son being there. 

The one time he had met him was confusing and traumatic. He was hit with all the information at once presented to him in one chaotic and bloody scene. His son’s body on one end of the room, and a pink ghost on the other end. 

So, seeing him again was bringing back the moment he found out. 

There had been blood everywhere, and on everyone’s clothes including Steven’s. But the body itself showed no injuries. It was just pale, cold, and lacking a vital piece. No amount of healing magic could restore the life lost. 

Greg dropped his guitar and fell to his knees. The boy sitting on the gravestone stood up and took a step forward, but stopped suddenly to stare at him.

“Steven?” Greg squeaked.

—

Steven had alternated his hiding place from his mom’s room to his grave on the second day. Though, he supposed the latter wasn’t that great a spot. Someone was bound to visit. 

Avoiding everyone so they could...adjust...was doing a number on him. With no one else’s emotions to bear the brunt of, no one’s problems to fix, he had no choice but to wallow in his own. 

And it  _ sucked _ . 

No one wanted him around right now. That’s the killer: he was the half no one cared about. He was the half not even  _ he _ cared about. Just the leftover from the person they lost whose mere presence reminded them of what had been lost. And these feelings were so  _ familiar _ . 

And even if people  _ did _ want him around, he would have no idea how to act. He wanted to make things better, but he would just make them worse. Connie was right about him being all about fulfilling his purpose. But his real purpose was to be Steven, which was now impossible, and he couldn’t even do the next best thing. He couldn’t do anything to help his family or the gem empire like this. 

He was about to burst into tears, unable to keep the emotions locked away anymore, when his dad showed up and snapped him out of it. He stepped away from the gravestone to give him time alone, but froze when he felt the waves of panic radiating from him. 

He also looked horrible. Disheveled, tired, thinner, clearly not taking care of himself. 

“Steven?” He squeaked.

Steven waited for more information. If his dad was starting to panic, he’d be forced to act. If it was something that would pass, it’d be better for him to go. 

His dad dropped the bouquet of flowers, clutched his chest and started to wheeze. His empathy quickly registered the panic filling him up. 

Steven rushed forward and guided him to a nearby bench. 

All he could manage to do, even though it lacked all affection or sincerity, was place a hand on his dad’s back and wait patiently.

__

Greg knew Steven was  _ trying _ as he awkwardly rubbed circles into his back. As his breathing evened out over the course of a few minutes, he even wanted to laugh. Nothing was funny about this, no, but something in him needed to.

So he did, through watery tears he started to laugh. Steven’s hand dropped back to his side and he realized his laughter was probably confusing him.

“S-sorry, bud, I just…” he let out one of those half laugh, half sobs and man did he feel like he was coming apart. And then the terrible wording of that in his mind destroyed him and he was back to full sobbing like he had spent the last week doing.

“This is just s-so weird, I--” 

He felt the hand on his back again, and something possessed him to lunge and wrap his arms tightly around the pink Steven. After a few moments, he felt him hug back. 

A few minutes passed before Greg finally released him. He kept his hands on Steven’s shoulders, so he could get a good look at him. He still bore a disturbingly blank expression. 

Nervous, he stammered, “How are you doing?”

Steven stared back and it was horribly uncomfortable. Greg took his hands off of him and looked at the ground.

He internally berated himself. No matter how outwardly different he was from the son he knew, it was still his son. He shouldn’t be breaking down in front of him. He should be helping  _ him _ , not the other way around. 

_ Or was he beyond help, now? _

The thought made him sick to his stomach all over again. His son was experiencing a fate worse than death and he didn’t know what to do about it. He was useless.

__

“How are you doing?”

_ Well I’m completely useless, Dad. I have no idea how to help anyone, not even myself. Being ripped in half is unbelievably difficult.  _

His dad looked away from him. 

_ He’s nervous and scared. Am I making him feel that way? How do I stop? _

His mind shifted through a million scripts. There were so many different things to say but which one yielded the best outcome? He was overwhelmed as he scanned him memory, things he has said in the past that worked before, things he may have once wished he said or didn’t say. 

The best action to take for him usually seemed to be none at all. Reacting to easily defined obstacles, like White Diamond’s attacks or his dad’s panic attack, was so much easier. 

“It...must be really hard for you,” his dad said. 

_ It is. _

The acknowledgement gave him some relief, but he waited for more information. 

“What are you doing out here? Why don’t you come home?”

…

“You know we love you, right?”

… 

“I really wish there was something I could do to help. If there’s anything--”

_ This again. _

“Stop.” 

No one could help him. He wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want their help. He figured his dad didn’t want to hear any of those things, however.

His dad’s wide eyes were transfixed, and now the pressure to act was unbearable. There was no more thinking, there was only instinct.

“There’s nothing you can do. I’m broken.”

His dad winced and he knew he said something hurtful. Why did he bother saying anything? 

His dad made a distressed noise, and opened his mouth only to slam it back shut. 

Rubbing his neck, he said, “I can give you a ride back.”

It didn’t make a difference to Steven, but if dad wanted his company, then of course he'd tag along.

He started walking in the direction of the van. 

“That’s a yes? Okay, then.”

His dad shuffled after him.

—

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” Greg said yet again. 

And yet again, Steven responded with a simple “I know, Dad,” from the passenger seat.

Every time he called him Dad, his heart ached. It validated that he was his son, yes (he and the gems all wondered about his identity—he’d have to report back to them once he figured more out), but it also reminded him of his powerlessness in helping, well,  _ his son.  _

He heaved a big sigh when he pulled the van into the usual spot. Still quite a walk around the cliffside to get to the house, but it gave them some privacy.

“You can tell me anything, Bud. I really mean it. I know I was never any help with gem stuff, but…”

But now he is literally ALL “gem stuff.” 

Greg cringed. It almost felt like a cruel parenting test. Take the parts of his son he knew barely anything about (partially due to being no help and the gems wanting him to stay out of things, and partially due to his own negligence to try and understand), and make it the only thing left.

Steven turned to look at him. Those eyes pierced right through him. It felt like he knew everything he was thinking and feeling. 

He realized that with Steven’s psychic power set, it was possible he did. 

He put his hand to his head. 

“Oh boy, I...I never put the flowers on your grave.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Steven quickly commanded. 

“Oh, uh, okay.”

He drummed on the steering wheel. 

“I went there to say a few words to...you…? Just to get some things off my che—“

“You can say them now.”

“H-huh?”

“You can say your few words to me.” Steven’s eyes trailed back to the window, and returned with a surprising amount of softness. Almost like longing. His voice was still strangely commanding, however, “I want to hear them.”

Greg gulped. “Are...I don’t...It’s a little hard to say. To...to you. I don’t want to upset you, or say something wrong, or—“

Steven unbuckled himself and crawled into the back. He sat down and stared expectantly back at him. 

Greg took a breath and followed. Once he sat and got comfortable, Steven shoved a guitar into his arms.

“If you can’t say it, sing it. I used to love when you sing.” 

Greg blinked and stared with a slight horror, “Used to? Does that mean...you don’t?”

That subtle look of longing was back. 

“I can’t,” he said plainly. 

“Whaddaya mean, you can’t?”

Steven stared (every time he broke his blank stare for a surprising amount of softness or emotion, it was even more jarring when it returned). 

After a moment, Steven leaned forward and pointed to the guitar. 

“Play.” 

Greg hesitated. He adjusted the guitar in his grip, but it felt so foreign to him now. It hadn’t even been that long since he last played, but it also might as well have been an eternity. 

He began strumming randomly, and singing with a meandering and random melody to fit his words to.

_ “St-steven...I don’t really know exactly what it is I wanna say. _

_ I don’t get mad that often but I’m mad I let you get taken away _

_ From me and from us and from the life you should have led. _

_ I’m not used to the feeling of my sanity hanging by a thread.  _

_ I’m no stranger to grief, but I never thought I’d go through it again, _

_ At least not for you. No matter how I try I can’t just pretend. _

_ That you’re not all I care about in the world and all I was worth. _

_ I promised I’d love and support you from the moment of your birth. _

_ But I wasn’t there for you when your life got crazier over the years. _

_ It wasn’t just the gems that kept me from it, it was my own fears. _

_ And I wonder if I had done something different you’d have lived some more, _

_ Because I lost you for good but I was starting to lose you long before.  _

_ And I don’t know what you are now but I know you’re hurting too, _

_ And I won’t step back this time and do nothing like I did as you grew.  _

_ We’re in this together and I love you no matter what part I get _

_ Every part of you is a gift and neither of us have given up yet.” _

He strummed a little more before realizing he was done and had tears rolling down his cheeks.

He was back in the cold reality, and he found himself frozen in front of Steven. He held his breath.

Steven just nodded, “Thank you.”

“Did...any of that mean anything to you?” He was scared for the answer.

Whether he meant it or not, Steven nodded.

“Really?”

He nodded.

"You feel better."

Yeah, Greg felt better getting all that out in the open, but is that all Steven cared about? That _he_ felt better? Is that all his words truly meant, was what they did for him rather than what they were saying?

"Yeah, I feel better, but what about you?"

Steven shook his head, "Doesn't matter what I feel."

"What? Of course it does! Your feelings matter most of all! You-you're the one who _died_!" 

"But I'm still here."

Greg gripped his guitar. Steven looked down in what he assumed was contemplation. 

Then, Steven looked up.

“I know what to do now.”

Greg hesitated. He put down his guitar without taking his eyes off his son. 

“And what’s that?”

Steven opened the back door and hopped onto the sand. He began to walk off to the house, before turning and saying in his usual monotone voice in such a way it sounded like he was checking off a list,

“I’ll be back. Get some sleep. Thanks for the words. Sorry for dying. You’ve always been a great dad.”

He paused again, and added on as an afterthought,

“Bye.”

And he was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> here's my original theory post on basically pink steven being the empathy and human steven being the sympathy: https://aanau.tumblr.com/post/189243286686
> 
> here's the link to spudinacup's comic (warning for blood): https://suaugonewrong.tumblr.com/  
> here's the link to Divided: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680970/chapters/49120202  
> and here's the link to The Glass Gemstone: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193461/chapters/45627373
> 
> all three of these things involve my favorite portrayals of pink steven, and each had some sort of influence on how i perceive him


End file.
